


Silencing the Screaming Fear-Demon Takes Effort - Some Days More Than Others

by Hawkbringer



Series: Stampede of Millions Orphanage AU [5]
Category: Trigun
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abrupt Ending, Angst and Porn, Dom/sub, Domestic, I'm Sorry, Knives is just a ball of internal conflict, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex as Exercise, Sex burns off energy too, Sibling Incest, post-anime canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Knives is nearly shuddering with need while Vash takes his time undressing and smoothing out the bedsheets. Knives used to be able to calm his rage himself; he used to have mental clarity... But that was before Vash got his dick inside his brother, and now it's all Knives can trust in, to take him out of his head, to let him sleep in peace. (Dom-sub, established relationship, Knives is an angsty little fucker in this post-anime-canon AU and Vash is just happy to have him back and mostly obedient around his found-family.)
Relationships: Millions Knives/Vash the Stampede
Series: Stampede of Millions Orphanage AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434997
Kudos: 13





	Silencing the Screaming Fear-Demon Takes Effort - Some Days More Than Others

Closing the door to their room ridiculously quietly as Knives watches impatiently, Vash carefully removes the covers from the bed, then meticulously undresses himself, then finally, finally, stretches out atop the bed and reaches out a hand for his brother, who has been standing naked for perhaps 40 seconds before Vash was done. 

That hand raised in benediction is his salvation and his permission and he's never needed something like that before, never in his /life/ - he leaps. He rightly and truly leaps onto the bed and on top of Vash and he shoves his naked arms around Vash's torso, past the scars and the unhealed x's and the metal - so much metal on his brother, some of it that he put there himself - and finds unbroken skin. 

He grips it hard, his knuckles going white, as he breaths out harsh against Vash's neck, squeezing his eyes shut against the incredulous tears of frustration 'family dinners' tend to inspire in his wretched mind. 

"What do I /do/?" he hisses, mutters, rages oh so very quietly into Vash's ravaged skin like a penitent. "You give me so few options, /brother./ What can I /do/?" 

Vash's arms come up around his brother's shaking, angry, impatient form and he strokes his back like he would a cat - if any of them were truly domesticated enough to touch. He waits to see if Knives has any more to say. 

The man with two bullet holes in his thighs says nothing more, though, and Vash then replies, "You can let me fuck you." 

"By the /Maker/, Vash! I swear, if you..." Knives trails off, though. 

"Would it help?" Vash asks as though Knives hadn't said anything of import. Which he hadn't, really. Knives shakes his head, but it's unfocused and confused and means he doesn't understand what Vash is saying, so the other clarifies, "Would it help you calm down? Would it help you sleep?" 

Knives hisses and growls lowly, not at all conscious or caring about the rumors of a monster that lives in Mr. Vash's room that have spread among the orphan children since Vash has officially taken the upper hand in their night-time dalliances. He breathes harshly and gnashes his teeth just millimeters from Vash's skin, aware that any pain he inflicts upon Vash will be returned to him ten-fold in the form of a thousand cutting glances or stony silences in the coming days, always lasting just long enough to make Knives regret - just the tiniest bit - ever hurting his other half in that /specific/ way. 

He tenses every single one of his muscles and ducks his head away from Vash's hot breath at his neck, not wanting anything approaching sympathy at the moment. He counts to ten and then exhales, every muscle unclenching, sagging onto Vash's body and covering all his imperfections with his almost-perfect own. A final, panting breath is sighed out over Vash's impossibly-pristine collarbones, all the breaks having vigorously healed themselves long ago. 

His fingers are still twitching, the curse of too much energy than he can burn in a day still curling about his extremities, waiting, not defeated. Knives wants to thwack his forehead into Vash's nose again - the one time he did that, it had made /such/ a satisfying sound. Instead, he levers himself up slightly and slides himself up to where he can press his forehead against Vash's own. 

He whispers, even more quietly than before, against Vash's lips, certain his brother will hear him, "It better be a damn thorough fuck." So close to them, Knives can feel his brother's lips curl, not at all ominously, driven by nothing but omnipresent love. 

Marveling irritatedly at how on Gunsmoke such a thing was /possible/ in a being so like himself, Knives allows himself to be rolled over and presses the top of his head into the headboard, knowing the bed will creak no matter how they do this, especially if Vash is going to comply with 'thorough' and not just 'quick'. 

Sighing through his nose with each breath, bracing himself on his knees, his hands pressed to the headboard beside his head, Knives waits for Vash to situate himself, to put his mouth where no mouth should go, to prepare him /thoroughly/ instead of ripping into his brother's body unanointed. 

Vash has brought cooking oils into the bedroom on previous days, but tonight wasn't planned as well as those times, Knives' transgression of the day relatively recent, his need piqued too quickly for such preplanning. 

He pants more harshly as Vash's tongue appears to tease him, merely wetting the flesh and not penetrating, but he says nothing, as experience has taught him that 'thorough' means Vash's way or nothing, and he has asked for this... He tightens his grip on the headboard and tenses his forearms. He /did/ ask for this... 

Vash notices, however, and, without stopping the pulsing of his tongue across Knives' sensitive flesh, addresses him mentally, though that takes extra energy on his part, /What's up?/ 

/Need you /now/,/ Knives replies, wondering if he can exhaust his body's twitching by mental effort alone. In the past, he has been able to do so effortlessly, has been able to calm himself, to live apart and complete, all alone but for his servants... But Vash had not had his tongue pressed into his asshole on those previous occassions. 

/Ah-ah-ah.../ Vash chides, swirling his tongue more insistently, but rewarding the terse mental communication with a brief penetration of his tongue, making the shaking man shout briefly in his mind. 

/Thoroughly, I know, but.../ Knives has a sudden vision, highly improbable, but pushes it out of his mind and into Vash's, wondering how his brother will take it. In this vision, Knives is kneeling over Vash, his asshole firmly pressed into Vash's mouth, while Knives himself slaves over his brother's cock, working it to a wet and turgid fullness that he almost immediately clambers forward and impales himself upon. 

Vash moans when he recieves the image, moans aloud into his brother's backside, which makes Knives wriggle, his organ beginning to throb, though its release is tangential to the experience of being wrung hard and stretched out and left to dry, putting more and more wrinkles into his once-perfect form, his once-perfect brain, every time; while Vash takes scrupulous care of his body, he does do not a thing to maintain Knives' sanctity of mind. 

Perhaps he is not even aware of what his thorough fuckings do the inner workings of Knives' brain, how they take the perfection he is so used to and draws swirls in it like dragging fingers over the surface of water, disturbing him, making him feel more complicated and capable of so many permutations, so much more alive and /possible./ He feels so /possible/ after Vash has fucked him. There is almost no sensation in the world he would trade it for... other than, perhaps, a chance to fuck /Vash/ one day. 

Perhaps, if he is good enough for long enough, and can avoid fighting with Vash or contradicting him, for maybe a whole week, a whole month, a whole /year/, Vash would let him. He has gone whole days without this honor, though, so Knives figures it must be a difficult thing to earn. 

He suddenly wonders, his head snapping up, unaware of Vash's feet sliding towards his head, if Vash has ever let /anyone/ fuck him.... or if he has, but it was done to save a life only, not out of want, but out of need. He wants Vash to /need/ him.... Because Knives always, /always/ has.

He hangs his head again and notices that Vash's bare feet have come into view, framing either side of the pillow that would cushion Knives' head, should he choose to drop his forehead to the mattress. "What...?" He looks back over his shoulder to see his brother smiling brightly with both hands outstretched. Once he has Knives' attention, he tugs on Knives' hips, dragging the other blond backwards a bit. 

"Now!?" Knives nearly shouts, clapping a hand over his mouth a second later. 

Vash's eyes scrunch shut and he opens his mouth to let out what would, in any other situation, have been a raucous laugh. Here, it is very quiet, like a soft chuckle, despite the unabashedly ecstatic face. "Why /not/?" he replies in whisper-form. 

Knives turns his head away, arms shaking again at the thought that he may be blushing, may have been caught off guard. He lowers his head and shuffles backwards until Vash's cock comes into view and his own hanging genitals make contact with Vash's chin. 

Familiar with this, though sometimes he wishes he wasn't, Knives sinks his mouth down onto his brother's cock, this instrument of torture, of calm, and thoroughly wets it in his throat. Vash moans his appreciation with his mouth sealed over Knives' pucker, the sensation always a bit disconcerting, a bit exciting. 

Knives tries not to wriggle, but doesn't bother trying not to gag. Vash loves it when Knives hurts himself for him. 

It's such a change, he admitted once, quite a long while ago before something /this/ elaborate had ever been dreamed up between them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's so abruptly ending! T_T I broke off this time-stream to write another for this universe, and I guess I didn't get back to it! Imagine that Knives gets a very thorough dicking while chasing after the static-scree of internal mental silence, while Vash stays impossibly peppy and cheerful through the whole thing. And then they fall asleep together side by side and Knives is almost smiling. 
> 
> It's un-beta'd because me trying to add italics where the slashes are was getting in the way of me posting works. Thank the Great Quarantine of 2020 for giving me the impetus to post again. Comment if you want to help me with HTML, or think of more tags!


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